Let's dive into a passage from Midrash Tehillim 36 that speaks directly to this feeling.
The verse we're focusing on is a prayer: "Draw your kindness towards your devotees." Simple enough, right? But as with so much in Jewish thought, the rabbis unpack layers of meaning. Rabbi Yitzchak, for example, offers a contrasting view: "Do not draw your kindness towards the nations of the world." What does this mean? Is God's kindness limited? The Midrash continues by exploring the purpose and timing of divine grace.
Rabbi Yannai uses a beautiful image to explain: "If a person lights a candle during daylight, what benefit does he have? And when does he benefit from it? When it illuminates for him in darkness." In other words, kindness is most impactful, most meaningful, when it shines a light in our darkest moments. It's not about constant, unneeded grace, but about timely, targeted support.
The text then connects this idea to the Exodus from Egypt, saying that the kindness shown to the Israelites in the desert has been established for them since the days of Moses. And when will it be repaid? "In times of darkness, as in the days of Jeremiah." It's a powerful promise, a reassurance that the acts of kindness in the past create a legacy of support for future generations in need.
The Midrash also touches on the enduring nature of the Jewish people and their connection to the land. Rabbi Yitzchak says, "A generation goes and a generation comes, but the earth always stands. These are the Israelites who will stand forever. And there is no land but Eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel), as it is stated, 'For you shall be a desirable land.'" This reminds us of the deep, unbreakable bond between the Jewish people and their ancestral homeland. The text continues, "'Until the day that the land is exiled.' And was the land exiled? Only Israel, who were exiled." Implying that their fates are intertwined.
Now, the Midrash takes a fascinating turn, delving into the use of the Shem HaMeforash – the "explicit name of God," a concept shrouded in mystery and reverence. Rabbi Elazar ben Kahana teaches that two generations were able to use it: the Men of the Great Assembly and the generation of the Destruction. The power and responsibility associated with knowing and using God's explicit name is immense.
The text then recounts a story involving Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi and Elijah the Prophet (may he be remembered for good!). Elijah was engaging with Rabbi Yehoshua in Torah study, even while they were in the cave of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, a place of profound spiritual energy. Rabbi Yehoshua was struggling with a halakha, a point of Jewish law. Elijah offered to introduce him to Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai for clarification.
However, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi was not pleased with the answer he received. He even challenged Rabbi Shimon's righteousness, saying that if he were truly righteous, the rainbow, a sign of God's covenant after the flood, would not appear during his lifetime. Remarkably, the Midrash tells us that the rainbow did not appear throughout the lifetime of Ben Levi. This story highlights the importance of humility and trust in the wisdom of others, even when we don't fully understand.
The Midrash concludes by exploring the use of the explicit name of God in warfare. Some say that even in the generation of Zedekiah, the last king of Judah before the Babylonian exile, they knew the explicit name and used it to empower their weapons. However, once they sinned and the Temple was destroyed, they fell into the hands of their enemies. Rabbi Ibbo and other rabbis suggest that the angels would peel off the name of God that was engraved on the instruments of war. Others say it peeled off on its own. Once the Temple was destroyed, they went out to war and fell in battle. The Midrash ties this to the verse "There is no soundness in my flesh because of Your indignation" (Psalms 38:4).
So, what are we left with? This passage from Midrash Tehillim offers a multi-layered reflection on divine kindness, the enduring bond between the Jewish people and the land, and the power and responsibility associated with sacred knowledge. But perhaps the most comforting message is this: even in times of darkness, the kindness of the past can illuminate our path forward.